Tent Life in Siberia eBook

He knew that it was certain death to drift out of
sight of the bark in that sinking sloop, and he hoped
to be able to swim alongside until he should be picked
up. I myself had not thought of this before,
but I saw instantly that it offered a forlorn hope
of escape, and I was just poised in the act of following
his example when on the quarter-deck of the bark,
already twenty feet away, a white ghost-like figure
appeared with uplifted arm, and a hoarse voice shouted,
“Stand by to catch a line!”

It was the Onward’s second mate.
He had heard our cries in his state-room as we drifted
under the ship’s counter, and had instantly
sprung from his berth and rushed on deck in his night-shirt.

By the dim light of the binnacle I could just see
the coil of rope unwind as it left his hand; but I
could not see where it fell; I knew that there would
be no time for another throw; and it seemed to me
that my heart did not beat again until I heard from
the bow of the sloop a cheery shout of “All
right! I’ve got the line! Slack off
till I make it fast!”

In thirty seconds more we were safe. The second
mate roused the watch, who had apparently taken refuge
in the forecastle from the storm; the sloop was hauled
up under the bark’s stern; a second line was
thrown to Bowsher, and one by one we were hoisted,
in a sort of improvised breeches-buoy, to the Onward’s
quarterdeck. As I came aboard, coatless, hatless,
and shivering from cold and excitement, the captain
stared at me in amazement for a moment, and then exclaimed:
“Good God! Mr. Kennan, is that you?
What possessed you to come off to the ship such a
night as this?”

“Well, Captain,” I replied, trying to
force a smile, “it didn’t blow in this
way when we started; and we had an accident—­carried
our mast away.”

“But,” he remonstrated, “it has
been blowing great guns ever since dark. We’ve
got two anchors down, and we’ve been dragging
them both. I finally had them buoyed, and told
the mate that if they dragged again we’d slip
the cables and run out to sea. You might not have
found us here at all, and then where would you have
been?”

“Probably at the bottom of the gulf,”
I replied. “I haven’t expected anything
else for the last three hours.”

The ill-fated sloop from which we made this narrow
escape was so crushed in her collision with the bark
that the sea battered her to pieces in the course
of the night, and when I went on deck the next morning,
a few ribs and shattered planks, floating awash at
the end of the line astern, were all of her that remained.

[Illustration: War and Hunting Knives.
Snowbeaters used for beating snow from the clothing.]